Summer of Content - Chapter 11

Markthespark By Markthespark, 18th Jan 2015 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

A short story of relationships in a farming village called Thorn Grove and how these relationships prosper/progress or are threatened by certain events

The grim scene

Remington hears the phone ring but is inclined not to answer.
He fell asleep reading the final pages of a novel in bed. As the phone continues to ring in the far-reaches of his mind, he shuffles around slowly to his left. It keeps ringing. He wants to ignore it; but the persistent ring forces him to switch on his lampshade, that throws a soft light over his bedside clock. "humm .. 12h30 in the morning" he mumbles to himself ... who can it be?" He takes his other arm out from under his sheet and picks up the phone.

"Hu hu hullo ... Remington here". There is a slight crackle ... and then the voice. "Kowsloski is it you? ... Koslowski is it you ... hallo-o." There is an eerie pause ... the pause that suggests trouble's looming from wherever the call is coming from. "GOD HELP ME PLEASE," says the voice on the line. "Help me...".

Remington is up with a jolt up ... and sits up against the headboard. "What's going on .. Koslowski ... WHAT'S happening there?" There is another brief pause ... shorter than the previous one ... then a loud thud over the receiver, before the line is broken. Remington jolts out of bed, hurriedly puts on clothes and covers himself with a thick jacket. He fiddles around the wardrobe for his woolen cap and tightly places it over his head.

By this time Josh is already standing in the passage upstairs .. "What's wrong dad .. where are you going?" Remington brushes past him and says: "Not to worry son, I'll explain, when I come back .. I don't even know for sure." Josh is besides himself with worry: "No dad, I have to come with you." Remington is already at the last step of the flight of stairs, by the time Josh answers. "Please, no son .. you look after Millie, I'll be alright... PLEASE just do as I say, will you?" Josh's heart says he's got to accompany his father, while his head ticking over with thought, says: “I have to stay with Millie. "Okay dad, please let me know what's happening."

Remington has already reversed out of his car port by the time Josh rushes to the window. Life is slow and easy-paced on Thorn Grove - it is unusual for Remington to be driving at what is close to breakneck speed. The side flaps of the light delivery vehicle with its open back, rattles as it grinds its way over the mud and gravel. The wind is howling and there is just a smidgen of rain that's falling on the windscreen. More so, the sound of the wiper screeching on the window disrupts Remington's thoughts as he winds his way towards the Kowsloski household.

Remington is not one to panic. His time in the army as a sergeant in charge of protecting the infantry headquarters has held him in good stead. He also was in charge of first aid. Then, he was protecting his own against the enemy. But who is the enemy here? He keeps calm as he hurtles his way to Kowsloski’s home. The scratching sounds of the overhanging branches of the huge trees on the side of the road against the vehicle are clearly audible. That's the least of Remington's worries now. Things are changing for the worse in Thorn Grove ... if the weather is anything to go by. The wind thrashes over the top of his vehicle and the rain, which has now morphed into a heavier downpour makes visibility poor. The vehicle leaves a thick quagmire of mud and water in its trail as Remington makes a frantic dash to Kowsloski.

Remington finally pulls up at Kowsloski’s farmhouse. He hears the clatter of the main stable gate. A few young cattle are running wildly outside, while the distinct cries of the mother cows can be heard inside the pens. The farmhouse tractor, which should have been parked next to the farmhouse in a special enclosure, is standing outside. Remington leaves the headlights on and makes a dash for Kowsloski’s front door. It’s securely bolted. “The kitchen door” he mumbles frantically to himself. The security mesh door of the kitchen door is open and is swinging wildly open and shut in the fierce gust of wind. “KOWSLOSKI!” … “KOWSLOSKI!” … Remington shouts at the top of his voice in his bid to get Kowsloski’s attention. But that is a futile exercise, as his voice is muffled by the rain pelting down and the harsh gusts of wind. The odd crackle of thunder and burst of lightning make it even more difficult to be heard.

Remington forces the door off its lock by kicking it open with the heel of his boot. It's pitch dark ... and Remington fiddles in his pocket for his miniature torch. He checks for the generator and finds it next to the kitchen stove and turns on the light. “Oh my .... g.. good lord .... " Remington’s eyes are nearly bulging out his sockets when he is greeted by the sight of blood next to the table, on the kitchen floor. He sees the blood even before he recognises Kowsloski’s prostrate body on the ground. “Kowsloski!! ....” Remington’s shrill seems to echo through the neighbourhood. Kowsloksi is semi-conscious and lying on his stomach in a pool of thick blood. Remington rips off his own jacket, and to see where the blood is coming from, turns Kowsloski over onto his back. His wrists are covered with raw blood ... Remington sees a butcher's knife lying next to him. “Why did you do this?", he asks even though he knows there would be no response from Kowsloki. He slaps him lightly around the face in an effort to bring Kowsloski round. Kowsloski … can only let out a slight murmur. His eyes are almost turning in his head. Remington again needs to think quickly.

He runs to an adjacent room and grabs the sheet off the bed and rips it apart into two long strips. He straps them tightly around Kowsloski’s wrists to stem the blood-flow. He runs to the kitchen tap and puts some water in a tin cup. "Drink this” he tells Kowsloski, who can hardly pull his lips apart ..’" Now he has to stabilise him. Remington places him on his back. Remington doesn’t want shock to set in too quickly now. He can make out a slight murmur from Kowsloski: “Help me” … but it’s getting all the more feinter.

After making sure that Kowsloski’s been more or less stabilised, Remington rushes to the lounge area. He knows time is of the essence if Kowsloski’s life is to be saved. He reaches for the phone and quickly dials the Scudberry police station’s telephone emergency response line out of his head. “Hello says Remington…” Now there’s just a slight crackle over the line as a result of the thunder cracks overhead. “Hello says the voice on the other line.” “Can I be of assistance?” Remington’s voice has a sense of urgency to it. “ Yes, please officer can you come to 14 Harrow place there is a situation here.” The constable’s voice grows louder now over the line …”Yes okay sir, what is the address again and what is the nature of the complaint?”. Remington’s voice is even more panic-stricken. He repeats: “14 Harrow Place officer … well someone is going to die here if we don’t get help to him soon … a possible attempted suicide .. can you call the ambulance service too please, officer?” The constable says in an assured tone ..”Yes we will dispatch both the police and ambulance services there, sir.” He adds:” “Can you give me your name sir …”. Remington lets out a sigh and says: “It’s Jake Remington … Jake Remington..” And even before the officer can sign off the conversation, Remington has already put down the receiver. The officer knows it’s a sign that quick action is needed.

Remington, who is kneeling next to Kowsloski’s almost-lifeless frame, sees the red flashing lights of the paramedic services’ emergency vehicle pulling up in front of the house. There is a huge thundercrack – and the rain becomes even steadier. Remington doesn’t even bother to help see them through the door, so intent is he at ensuring Kowsloski remains stable. Paramedics rush in with a huge first aid box, an oxygen tank a drip and a stretcher. “Okay sir .. we will take over… now,” says one of them. Kowsloski gets up slowly from his crouching position and runs his fingers through his hair.

As he prepares to take a seat and make sense of the situation; the local Scudberry police detectives pull up in a convoy of three cars, blue lights flashing. Two detectives, dressed in oversized overcoats rush in and there is an exchange of words between them and the paramedics. One of the paramedics who is placing a drip on Kowsloski nods his head while speaking to one of the detectives. He points in Remington’s direction.

The detective walks across the room, where Kowsloski is lying, towards the lounge: “You Remington?”, asks the detective. “Ye … yes I am,” Remington responds, hardly audibly. “I am detective Tom Harding and this is my assistant detective Fergus Shennigan..” Remington looks up to Harding and turns his head slightly down before nodding in approval. Harding with hands in pockets, says due to the nature of the victim’s injuries he has to be admitted immediately to hospital.”The rest of our team will hang around and investigate the scene. Can you please come around to Scudberry so we can take a full statement of the night’s events as you saw it, Mr Remington?” Remington still looking down … can only nod his head twice up and down. Then he says: “Detective Harding … can I be there in two hours .. I just need to get my breath back?” Detective Harding looks him in the eye and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder says: “Sure, Mr Remington … sure no problem at all.”

As the detectives walk away, Remington puts his coat back on and simply stares ahead of him. Something is bothering him and decides not to move away from the scene until he is due to make his statement at Scudberry. He senses there is more to the night’s events than meets the eye. The sudden change in the weather signals a change in the prevailing circumstances that is Thorn Grove!


Farmhouse, Kowsloski, Relationships, Story, Summer Of Content, Writing

Meet the author

author avatar Markthespark
I am a 49 year old journalist, and have been involved in the profession for 19 years. I am currently a newspaper sub-editor at a newspaper group in Port Elizabeth on the east coast of South Africa. .

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author avatar Fern Mc Costigan
20th Jan 2015 (#)

Awesome post!

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author avatar Kingwell
30th Jun 2015 (#)

Wow! When will you have the next chapter ready? Blessings.

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